She's A Fighter (ON HOLD)

She's a Fighter; Chapter Two

I slow down my pace so that I could control my breathing.Wouldn’t want to faint or anything.

Even though I slow down my pace, I don’t lessen the impact of each blow. Each blow is less significant than the last, making each one harder. I am exhaustively energized if that makes any sense. My sore muscles make me want to push harder and put in more time. Train insane or remain the same, right?

I start focusing on my kicks. I’ve always wanted to knock someone out with a single kick. You have to be seriously good at kicking to knock someone out like that, and I consider that my next goal. I start making combinations. Knee, high roundhouse, low roundhouse, regular, and finish off with a tornado kick just to be a show off. I work on both legs, knowing that my left leg is my less dominant leg.

“Bro, do you even lift?”

“Hell yeah, man. Have you seen my biceps?”

All these idiots are rambling on at the gym. Like, get your ignorant asses out of here. Working out should have a purpose. It should have a meaning beside it having additional vanity benefits. Working out may JUST be working out to you. To me, it’s training. It’s bootcamp. It’s working hard towards my dream. It’s my stress reliever and my escape. Some people paint and draw. Some people sing or dance. Some people do yoga or meditate. Some read or play team sports. Me on the other hand, I fight.

I start fuming with anger and try to incorporate it into my workout. The guys’ conversation seems to get louder and closer to me, which only fuels me more. I get up to my tornado kick which technically is like two for one. You start off with a regular roundhouse kick then spin around lift the opposite leg of which you are using to deliver a second roundhouse kick. As soon as my shin connects with the bag, I feel a blockage where the bag should swing freely. Then, I hear a loud thump. I realize something hits the floor, or someone.

I was so pissed off. What the hell would someone be doing so close to my bag? Do you not pay attention? Too busy talking about if you lift, bro? Gosh. I realize it would be highly inconsiderate to not help them up, no matter whose fault it was.

“Oh my gosh! Are you okay?”

“Yeah some a-hole just knocked me down with their punching bag.”

I come around the bag and glare at the guy standing up.

“Oh crap, she’s a girl. Oh my gosh. She’s a girl. You got knocked down by a girl.”

I death glare him. I stare at his scrawny body and how easily I could pound him. I put my attention towards helping the guy up. I wasn’t even going to ask what he was doing. I didn’t want to make myself go crazy over a petty little issue.

The guy looks at me with a baffled look on his face.

“She’s not just any girl, man. She’s Carter “the Killer” Price.”

“Holy shit. Really? I didn’t even realize. I am so sorry. Do me a favor and don’t kill me.”

“Yeah, whatever.” I brush off the dumbass sidekick. “So, you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m sorry for being a jerk. Big fan by the way.”

“Man who isn’t?!”

“Well, next time don’t hang around my punching bag. Kay? Thanks.”

“Well. I’m erm uhm... I’m Reed Hale.”

This guy seemed like an honest fan, and I felt bad that he had to suffer for my rage. Maybe a conversation will salvage his loyal fanship.

“Nice to meet you. So big UFC fan?”I said while flashing a smirk at him.

“Yes! The biggest.”

“Hype for the Sonnen vs. Jones fight?”

“Yeah I’ve been literally waiting for ever.”

“Oh my gosh it’s going to be awesome!” his friend said.

We both stared at each other while his friend rambled on. I didn’t even bother to ask him his name. Reed had an unavoidable gaze fixated on me. I couldn’t look away from those deep blue eyes. For once, I felt like I wasn’t the one in control and I was unsure of how I felt about that.

“Uhm, I mean I know I’m probably just a fan and you probably have a boyfriend, but I was wondering maybe you’d like to watch it with me.... if you’re not like busy or anything.”

His shyness was utterly cute. Reed scrunched his nose and smiled hesitantly while waiting for an answer. I mean, he is cute. God, who am I kidding he’s more than cute... Carter pay attention he’s waiting for an answer!

I stumble over my words. “Erm. Yeah, sure.”

“Oh my gosh. . . really?!” he said it surprisingly. At least now I can say I do hangout with my fans. Faye is always bothering me about that. She acts like I don’t like my fans.

“Why not? I’m not particularly busy. Johnson’s before party is going to blow anyway.”

“Oh my gosh? Johnson?” the friend says. I nod his way, brushing him off again.

I grab Reed’s hand and jot down my number.

“Pick you up at 8?”

“Nah, we’ll just meet up.”

If a fan knew where I lived and it leaked, I’d have to move.

I should be worried about training and getting ready for the fight with Johnson. I should be bothering Faye like the great best friend that I am. I should be getting those pre-fight interviews out of the way, but all I can think about is Reed’s deep blue eyes pouring into mine and how his skin felt against mine.